In My Blood
by nicholex
Summary: Post-season 5A. Beth Greene ended up surviving her headshot wound and is saved by Morgan Jones hours after her premature burial. With little to no memory on what happened or what world she now lives in, Beth forces herself to stick by Morgan's side as he starts a journey to Washington DC. She's figuring out day by day who she is and who she used to be, and somehow surviving too.
1. Prologue

**Writer's** **Note**: I have no clue where this came from, but after the MSF, I was left in a ocean of tears. So, this popped into my head and I knew it had to be done. On another note, I hope you all enjoy this first chapter. Feedback is appreciated, especially since this is my first Bethyl Fanfiction ever.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the Walking Dead.

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><p><em><strong><span>Prologue<span>**_

A cough erupted from the girl's mouth, the feeling of a cloth wrapped around her, forming a tight cocoon around her body. She struggled against it, but she only wormed her way deeper into the ground. Her breathing hitched when she realized she was buried alive; the feeling of the cloth and soil suffocating her.

The girl couldn't remember anything, and she tried real hard to remember exactly what had happened and how she got into the situation she was in. Yet, no matter how hard she tried to think, her mind was on other things. Such as the fact that she could feel herself losing air the more she struggled beneath the dry Earth.

Beth couched, licking her cracked lips, screaming, "_Help_!" It was the only thing she could do; knowing that it would probably lead to absolutely nothing.

She clawed at the sheet she was encased in, managing a large hole that she poked her fingers through until she made it to the dirt. It stuck underneath her fingernails as she dug at it, coughing all the while. She was expecting the soil to be moist, but instead it was dry, and fell on top of her the more she clawed at it. The tears finally burned the back of her eyes out of frustration, a sudden pang of pain forming behind her forehead. She let out another scream for anything, anybody.

Outside the premature burial, there was the sound of feet against leaves and the sound of heavy breathing. Beth couldn't hear it, and continued on with her scream-fest. It didn't take long for her hollering to die down, though; she grew exhausted - from the heat and her attempts at staying alive - and she fell onto her back, giving up momentarily on what she was doing. As she did so, there was the sudden sound of a shovel against dirt. But her eyes were clouding over, her breathing becoming shallow gasps for air.

She couldn't speak anymore and swallowed the lump in her throat, feeling her fall under yet again.

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><p><em>Beth aimed for the squirrel that scampered away through the brush. She frowned deeper at her attempt at actually killing something and putting food on the table. Eating canned pigs feet and flat cola wasn't exactly her definition of a decent meal. Back at the prison they had better, and that was stale Ramen. The crossbow in her hands fell to her side in disappointment.<em>

_"Ya' get anythin'?" a grumbling voice asked from behind her._

_Beth slowly turned her head, forcing a smile on her face. "No."_

_She stared Daryl down for a few moments before turning back to the scenery she had her eyes on. There was no more rustling in the bushes or trees, the world was still and quiet besides her and Daryl's breathing._

_"Did ya' find somethin'?" Beth asked, picking the bow back up in her hands, and aiming it for practice._

_Daryl ignored her with a deep groan, the sound of his footsteps picking up beside her._

_She turned, her ponytail whipping past her head. He was walking in the opposite direction of her, and she took off behind him until she made it to his side. They were a team; nobody got left behind._

_"Ya' tryin' to leave me behind or somethin'?" she joked, handing him his crossbow._

_Daryl shook his head, grabbing the weapon from her small dirt-stained hands._

_Beth kept to herself for the rest of their trot, her ankle aching with each step she made. But she didn't complain, and kept on with Daryl. She didn't want him to know she was in pain._

_When the funeral home came into view, where they were currently making camp, Beth felt herself trip over something, falling down and catching herself by the palms of her hands._

_In an instant, Daryl was there helping her up to her feet. "Thanks," she said, out of breath._

_Looking at her, he focused his eyes onto her wounded ankle. She saw this and expected him to ask her about it, but she didn't want to hear it and instead took off without another word to him._

_Beth stumbled into the funeral home with Daryl hot on her trail, and she could hear him grunt about how fast she was going._

_"I'm goin' as fast as I can," she said._

_Out of nowhere, Daryl swept her up off her feet and held her bridal style. "Forget that," he told her, kicking in the kitchen door of the house._

_He set her down at the table that was set up with two jars of pigs feet, two liters a cola, and jars of peanut butter and jelly. He sat down right across from her and started to eat, and didn't even realize the way that Beth was looking at him. As if nothing else mattered, and it was just them; sitting there, alone, the whole Walker world gone from existence._

_Though, the silence ended too soon by the rattling cans they strung up outside, and she was knocked out of her thoughts and forced herself from jumping from her seat to see what had happened._

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><p>Beth's eyes opened slowly, one by one, and adjusted to the night sky that was still sparkling with stars with each passing night. She tilted her head up at it, keeping her eyes on them for a long while until it was all interrupted by the sound of wood crackling from beside her.<p>

She sat up and looked into the bright orange fire that warmed her skin and captivated her in a bright glow. Nobody was around, and she felt her eyebrows knit together in confusion; who had been the one to start the fire? And who saved her?

Those questions were answered when she saw a figure looming ahead by a large white chapel. He was standing there in front of another burning fire of something that looked like bodies to her. _Bodies? _she thought, keeping herself from being recognized. That's when the man turned and started walking towards her.

"How's your head?" the man suddenly asked when he was within ten feet of her, causing Beth to flinch back at the interruption of her thoughts.

Beth looked around for a escape route, and he must've sensed it.

"I won't hurt you," he said. "If you want to leave, you're free to. But if you don't, you won't be harmed."

"Who are you?" Beth asked.

"The name's Morgan."

That name sounded _so_ familiar to Beth, it was uncanny. She just couldn't place where she'd heard it before.

Morgan started towards her slowly, giving her enough time to run away if she wished. But she didn't. As he grew closer, she knew he wasn't one of the bad ones. Something about his presence eased her nerves, calming her.

Beth finally raked her eyes around her surroundings. Other than the chapel, she was surrounded by a lot of trees. "What happened?" she asked, resting her sights on Morgan.

"I could ask you the same thing," Morgan said as he sat down on the other side of the fire. "But by the looks of things, it seems as though you've survived a gunshot to the head."

Beth felt her blood run cold, raising a hand to her head. She felt a scar on her cheek and above her eyebrow, but there was another one there that was covered in a white gauze, the quilted fabric rough against her fingertips.

Morgan sighed, "Do you...remember anything?"

Beth hesitated, letting her hand fall limp to the grass. She shook her head a firm no after realizing that she should probably be honest with the man.

"Not even your name?"

She thought for a moment on that, wondering what exactly her name was. "I...I don't know." Then a name came up in her head. "Beth? I think my name's Beth...Dixon?" She didn't mean to say that her last name was Dixon, it just popped up and she couldn't stop herself from saying it.

"Beth Dixon?"

Again, she didn't know. With a simple shrug of her shoulders she allowed him to continue calling her that.

"Well, Beth Dixon, it seems as though we might be stuck together for a little while." He reached over for a canister of water and handed it to her. "So, I might as well give you the run down of what's going on then."

Beth took a sip of the lukewarm water, humming at the taste of it on her dry lips. When he said the run down, she snapped her eyes up at him and removed the bottle from her lips, confusion etched in her face. "What?"

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><p><strong><span>Writer's Note<span>**: So, we have a memoryloss!Beth. Originally, she was going to have her memories in the story, but after looking through Tumblr and seeing a lot of theories and cute little headcanons, I got inspired to use memory loss in the story. The italicized section is actually a memory or dream that Beth had, just so you guys don't get confused. That's where she got 'Dixon' from.

Also, depending on how well this story goes in terms of feedback, I might make this a 20-30 chapter story. It really all depends on how you guys like this first chapter and what inspiration I have to work off of.


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the Walking Dead.

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><p><em><strong><span>Chapter I<span>**_

_Three Weeks Later_

The sun shined during the crisp October morning, the wind hitting the reddened faces and chilled bodies of those that walked amongst the foliage covered ground. Beth and Morgan trudged through the forest, keeping up at the fast pace and making idle chit-chat. Beth didn't talk much, though. She listened most of the time to whatever Morgan spoke of, and it was nothing personal or giving her insight of who the man she stuck close to for a little over three weeks.

Morgan didn't talk much anyway, she observed with a cold look in her blue eyes. Unless it was about their trip to Washington DC or finding food or scavenging for supplies, he didn't give her anything to work off of. But it wasn't like she was listening either. Half the time, Beth was whisked away by her own thoughts, always bickering her conscious for who she is, who she _was_, or what happened to her. She wanted answers, which is what kept her occupied during the day and night. Though, this was hardly a good thing. Sometimes she was so caught up with her own little world that she forgot that she lived in different one; a dangerous, bloody, and little mouse trap of a world. It almost got her killed a few times; forcing her from her thoughts, planting her back in reality - a reality that she feared. _  
><em>

Beth took a moment, glancing over their temporary environment. It's an emerald scenery that was littered with orange, red, and yellow leaves; distorted tree trunks and a crackling underfoot. In the midst of decaying world, there was bound to be beauty somewhere. And, somehow, the trees and bushes and flowers always deemed themselves lucky. They kept their pigments and postures while dead human bodies walked among them. Even then, plants remained beautiful; as if reminding Beth that maybe there was hope for a clean world after all.

Morgan halted when he saw the first smile tug at the corner of Beth's usual remote lips. Something flashed behind her eyes, but vanished quickly, the young girl looking at him as if she felt him watching her the whole time. He was going to say something, yet he didn't want to.

Beth removed her leather backpack from her shoulders, setting it against a tree. She stole it off a dead Walker days ago after fighting off a large pack of them. It was nerve wracking, her first herd since she had woken up. She remembers the way they snarled and snapped at her. Even now, far away from any Walker, she was fearful.

There was a sudden change in the wind, causing Beth to pull at the flaps of her jacket. "Where are we again?" she asked for the tenth time that day.

Morgan retrieved his folded map from his jacket pocket, opening it and looking at it. "We're nearing Virginia," he said to her before putting it back in its rightful place.

Something then fell from his pocket, causing Beth's eyes to land at the crumbled piece of faded paper on the ground. She glanced at him for a split second, and then reached down to grab it. Her fingers were barely tight enough to hold it when Morgan plucked it from her fingers.

Beth furrowed her brow. "Are ya' at least gonna tell me what it is?"

It was a paper that had fallen out of Morgan's pockets a bunch of times during their journey together. Every time she tried to read it, he was there to rescue the thing as if it were some big military secret; snatching it from her hands and telling her that it was none of her business.

Morgan shook his head.

She didn't pester him any longer, giving up and respecting his wishes to keep whatever was on that slip to himself. She turned back to her pack and bent down to retrieve it, when a sudden rustling caught her off guard. Her hand slipped around the handle of a large hunting knife that was kept in her belt, tightening her grip as she held it out, waiting for anything to appear through the bushes.

Yet nothing came.

Beth let out a sigh of relief, sliding the blade away in its proper placement with ease in her shoulders, turning back around to set her sights on Morgan.

"We should set up camp," he suggested.

Beth only nodded her head before riffling through her bag, pulling out a small journal that she found at a home somewhere outside of Atlanta. It had a firm leather cover with the name 'Julie' printed on the lower left corner of it. Beth raised the book to eye-level, running her fingers over the offset white color of the book. It only had one page written in it, dating back to 2009. Julie wrote about the death of a loved one, and Beth remembers tearing the page and crumpling it into a ball, throwing it on the ground in disinterest.

Now the book was empty. The pages were getting old and were rough against her thumb as she fiddled with the pages. She has yet to find a writing utensil, but when she finds one, she plans on documenting her adventure with Morgan, putting thoughts to paper. Maybe that would help her regain her old self, old thoughts, and the old Beth Dixon.

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><p>Beth woke to a jolt; sitting up straight and staring into the darkness of her tent. There was nothing but the sound of leaves rustling. Yet, Beth knew that something else had roused her. It was as if there was a skittering of feet and whispers coming from outdoors, filtering through the tent and filling Beth's mind with incoherent words.<p>

Her eyes fitted over the door of her tent, her hand searching around for the hunting knife quietly, hoping she'd keep from causing attention to herself. That was the last things she wanted.

The cold metal was hidden beneath her sleeping bag. The sharp jagged point almost breaking skin when she grabbed for it. It was the only thing she could use, a gun would cause a much more bigger stir than she'd like. And Morgan didn't trust her with one yet anyway.

Beth gulped, peeling back the covers to escape the warmth and comforting slumber she had been in. For once in the past weeks she didn't dream at all, or remember, or whatever it was. The only time she actually unearthed something about her real self was with that person Dixon. Though, he didn't invade her mind ever again.

The cold night air hit Beth's face like a bucket of ice as soon as she emerged from the color-blocked tent that was in a hideous color of green and orange. She forgot to pull on her jacket before leaving, so she as left in her tarnished yellow polo, blue jeans, and socks. Not that she minded at all.

Morgan, who was keeping watch like he always did, couldn't be seen in the dark of the night. Their small fire had been put out hours ago. The only thing really illuminating anything was the crescent moon that peeked out through the oaks and pines.

"Morgan?" Beth asked cautiously. She flinched back at the sound of a branch snapping. "Morgan?" she asked a bit harsher.

There was nothing in reply, causing anxiety to set in. Her stomach turned to knots, her grip tightening onto her knife, holding it out as if anything could jump out at her at any given moment. This was the first time she'd ever been abandoned. She didn't want to feel weak, but in that moment, she did. But she faced it head on with a tiny bit of confidence that didn't shy away from escaping onto her features.

Her pulse raced; her mouth was set in a firm line. All she could do was stand still as a statue. She feared moving even an inch. Anybody could be watching, anything could be lurking in the shadows. In a world like this, she knew that Walkers weren't the only things to be afraid of. People were also cagey in a world like this. Morgan even told her that he ran into different groups of people; weird, whacky people. He warned her to never trust anyone, and she took the advice to heart.

Another branch snapped, and soon several others did; enough to tell her that it wasn't Morgan she'd be encountering. At first she believed it to be Walkers. But then she heard the whispering, and Walkers didn't whisper.

Beth had two options; step back into her tent and hide in her sleeping bag - which could be a death wish - or make a run for it. She consequentially went for the latter.

She made a run for it; darting to her left head on. Just as she did so, the sound of the footsteps got louder and faster behind her. They knew she was running. It was only a matter of time before they got to her, which Beth assumed wouldn't be long.

Hands suddenly grabbed at her upper arms, capturing her and pulling her in behind a tree and keeping her held there with her back against a hard chest. She tried to scream, but a hand covered her mouth, muffling her hollering with a compressed, yet gentle, grip.

The footsteps soon died down within a few minutes. There wasn't any crunching leaves or muttered voices. It was just Beth and the mysterious man's breathing filling the atmosphere. This wasn't anything near comforting.

He removed his hand from her mouth and Beth gasped at the air that filled her lungs. But then, she straightened up her posture and whirled around out of the man's grip. She had the blade of the knife against his throat, a threatening tone lacing her voice like poison as she stared down the man with shoulder length hair that was covered with a dark black beanie.

"_Who are you_?"

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><p><span><strong>Writer's<strong> **Note**: I would just like to give a big thanks to those of you that reviewed/followed/favorited and are reading the story! I haven't been able to get around to reply to said reviews, but it definitely puts a big smile on my face to see notifications that people are enjoying the story and want to see more - you guys are great! So, anyway, as you can tell things in this chapter escalated pretty quickly, which is certainly a good thing of course. But that doesn't mean we're going to be seeing a Bethyl reunion any time soon. Right now, I'm estimating that we'll get some real Bethyl moments - that aren't through memories or dreams - in about 10 chapters. It could be earlier than that or later than expected. I know that that's pretty long, but these things take time. And I will work extra hard on making the reunion great! Though, with a confused and guarded Beth, we really don't know what reaction she'll have to seeing Daryl or her family again.

_Oh, _and pointers to anyone who can take a guess at who saved Beth at the end of the chapter. Extra points if you take a swig at the things - people, I guess - that Beth heard.


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